"What? Annihilated?! How could the supply unit be wiped out?!"

Inside his lavish tent, Count Tamos Degald raged, storming back and forth.

Perdiom had already abandoned the idea of open battle and fortified themselves within the castle.

Now they would need to launch a siege, but without the supply unit, they couldn’t drag it out for long.

"That idiot Pavro! I never should have entrusted the supply unit to that fool! How could he let Perdiom pull off a surprise attack?!"

Pavro had led the largest faction among Degald’s retainers. While Tamos had known Pavro wasn’t particularly reliable, he had no choice but to assign him the supply unit. But this—this was beyond his worst expectations.

Tamos had never imagined that Perdiom, with their reduced forces, would attempt such an audacious move.

"How did they even manage to launch an ambush in their state?!"

The fewer forces you have, the harder it is to attempt bold strategies like that. The risks are too great.

No sensible commander would gamble on such a move.

"Damn it! At this rate, even if we win, we won’t have enough troops left to secure the territory!"

The supply unit consisted entirely of Degald’s forces, which meant the loss hit them hard.

He had sent them to the rear to save them, but now that decision had backfired spectacularly.

"Calm yourself, Count."

Seated next to him, a tall, stern-looking man sat with his arms crossed.

His name was Viktor, a warrior carefully nurtured by Count Desmond.

"How can I be calm? The stones for the catapults were all with the supply unit! We don’t have enough here!"

"That’s unfortunate, but we only need to breach one or two sections of the castle walls. We still have the siege towers and the main force intact. It’s not a major problem."

"Still, if this takes too long, we’ll be in trouble. We only have enough provisions for a few days."

Tamos had a vague fear of siege warfare.

With no real experience in war, neither tactics nor strategy came naturally to him.

"We planned to end this quickly from the start. Perdiom isn’t properly prepared for a siege."

"How can you be so sure?"

Tamos asked, curious. Viktor responded with a smug grin.

"Experience. Trust me, this will be over soon. You have nothing to worry about."

"Hmph. Well, that’s good news for me then. Haha."

The odds were overwhelmingly in their favor. Whether they fought an open battle or laid siege, it wouldn’t take long to finish this.

Tamos smiled outwardly, but inwardly he seethed with resentment.

‘Arrogant bastard. How dare he speak to me, a Count, in that tone? He’s just a knight!’

Despite his growing dissatisfaction, Tamos kept his irritation in check.

After all, it wasn’t him who commanded the main force—it was Viktor.

"Hmph. So, can we finish this before Count Roges sends reinforcements?"

"They won’t arrive."

Amelia had already stationed her forces along the routes leading to Roges’ territory, blocking any reinforcements.

"Heh. Count Desmond really prepared everything, didn’t he? If Perdiom had handed over the runestones right away, they wouldn’t be in this mess."

Tamos smirked.

"Still, it’s fortunate we can crush Perdiom before they grow any stronger. Gilmore’s death wasn’t in vain after all. That idiot caused me no end of grief, but at least in death, he’s proving useful. Good boy."

Gilmore’s death didn’t bother him in the slightest. After all, he could always have more children.

What mattered was that, once this war ended, Tamos would become a great lord himself.

‘I may have to split the Beast Forest, but... there’s no other option for now.’

In exchange for lending his forces, Count Desmond had demanded half of the rights to develop the Beast Forest.

Since Tamos couldn’t take Perdiom alone, he had reluctantly agreed.

But once he grew stronger with the runestones, Tamos planned to find a way to drive Desmond out.

Dreaming of the future, Tamos spoke slyly.

"Hmm, but with our forces reduced, I’m not sure we’ll be able to fully secure Perdiom. Even if we conscript soldiers immediately, it will take time..."

"I’ll lend you some troops after we capture the territory."

"Ah, thank you. I’ll be sure to repay Count Desmond’s kindness."

Tamos smiled, feeling reassured at last.

Viktor, smiling back, hid the murderous glint in his eyes.

‘You fool. As soon as we take Perdiom, you’ll be killed.’

Tamos was scheduled to die “tragically” in the midst of the war.

Once that happened, the only remaining heir to Degald’s lands would be Tamos’ second son.

What would happen to him would be up to Count Desmond.

‘The destruction of the supply unit worked out perfectly.’

It was Degald’s troops that had been wiped out, troops they planned to discard anyway. Perdiom had done the dirty work for them.

‘But who was behind it? Randolph? Or maybe Zwalter? Not that it matters. They’ll all be dead soon enough.’

Viktor stopped his musings and rose from his seat.

"I’ll be going now. We’ll reach Perdiom soon, so be ready."

"Hmph. Understood."

As Viktor stepped out of the tent, he surveyed the army spread out before him.

The force of 6,000 soldiers was made up of elite troops, each one handpicked and trained.

They even had siege towers—an incredibly expensive piece of equipment that smaller territories could only dream of obtaining.

"With this army, we could even crush Reyfold easily."

This army was powerful enough to take down one of the northern great lords, like Reyfold.

In truth, Perdiom meant little to him. This was merely a stepping stone, something to wipe away after dinner.

No matter how hard Perdiom struggled, they couldn’t escape their inevitable fate.

"Another noble house is about to be destroyed."

Viktor muttered indifferently.

Count Desmond had sent him here to finish the job, decisively and completely.

And Viktor had the power to do just that.

After all, he was the greatest knight in the north.

"We caught another one."

Bernaph stood before Amelia, bowing his head.

Amelia sat beneath her tent, looking bored.

"How many so far?"

"Five."

"Keep watching every route. Don’t let a single one slip by."

"Understood."

"This is so boring."

Amelia had blocked all the roads to Count Roges’ territory, capturing any Perdiom soldiers trying to send messages.

She was only here because Count Desmond had requested it, but being sent all this way just to catch messengers was a blow to her pride.

Even sitting still made her more irritated.

"Nyaaah."

Bastet, sitting in her lap, yawned lazily, just as bored as she was.

Bernaph, looking dejected, lowered his head further.

‘Ah, I wish I could have fun with her too...’

A group of maids stood nearby, fanning Amelia while fruit of every variety sat within reach.

All Amelia had to do was give the orders, lounging around as if on a picnic.

Not long after, soldiers brought another messenger’s body to the tent.

Amelia glanced at the scene, muttering with annoyance.

"Hmph. How many are they going to send? Count Perdiom sure is persistent."

She could understand why—Perdiom’s territory was on the verge of collapse. But no matter how hard they struggled, it was pointless.

"A man should know when to give up. The father and son are no different. Tsk, tsk."

Amelia already knew the war had begun.

She felt a little regretful. She had wanted to be the one to personally take Ghislain’s head.

"And it’s a shame about the runestones. If Count Desmond gets his hands on them, it won’t be easy to take them back."

The runestones were what she regretted the most.

But for now, her forces couldn’t take on Count Desmond.

"Well, I’ll just steal them back later."

There was no way someone as greedy and relentless as Amelia would give up on the runestones.

As Amelia relaxed, planning her next move, one of her subordinates came running over with urgent news.

"Lady Amelia! Urgent report!"

"What is it?"

Her sharp gaze made the subordinate bow his head even lower as he handed over a letter.

"The Degald supply unit was wiped out?"

Amelia’s brow furrowed as she read the message.

"Hmm. So they plan to hold out in a siege?"

Perdiom must have decided to barricade themselves inside the castle and wait for the enemy to withdraw, hoping reinforcements would come in time.

But to Amelia, who was intercepting all their messengers, the plan seemed laughable.

By the time any message reached Count Roges, the war would already be over.

"They’re gambling their lives on such a slim hope? Do they think they can hold out on sheer willpower?"

She chuckled at the absurdity of it.

If it were her, she would have handled things differently.

She would have abandoned the people and the castle, withdrawn her forces, and waged guerrilla warfare.

With their supplies cut off, Desmond’s forces would eventually be forced to retreat, unwilling to risk further losses.

To Amelia, Count Perdiom’s pride in protecting his people seemed inefficient.

If you won the war, you could always reclaim your land and people. They only had to survive for a short time.

"Such soft-hearted fools. Don’t they realize they’re sending more people to their deaths?"

To her, it looked like they were dragging everyone down into a collective suicide.

Amelia tossed the letter aside but then paused, her expression tightening.

"Something’s off. I smell a rat."

"Smell, my lady?"

Ignoring Bernaph’s confusion, Amelia thought for a moment before speaking again.

"Send more men to Perdiom. Have them report back the moment the battle ends. I want a detailed account of what happens."

"Is that really necessary? With such a huge difference in numbers, it’s almost impossible for them to lose."

But her eyes, filled with irritation, turned to Bernaph.

"Send them. Something’s not right."

"...Understood."

A strange feeling nagged at the back of her mind.

‘Ghislain wouldn’t just sit still and do as he’s told. He’s not one to follow normal strategies and move predictably.’

Amelia had been robbed of 20,000 gold and had failed to assassinate him.

She had tried to undermine Ghislain by cutting off Perdiom’s support, but that too had failed.

No matter her personal feelings toward Ghislain, she wasn’t foolish enough to ignore the facts she had learned through experience.

‘That bastard is definitely up to something.’

A sense of foreboding crept up her spine.

Amelia shook her head, trying to shake off the unease.

"Move quickly. Send multiple scouts to watch closely."

Bernaph nodded.

"Still, launching a surprise attack to cut off the supply line… it’s impressive. Quite daring, actually."

"Yeah."

Amelia replied halfheartedly, but Bernaph, encouraged by her response, continued.

"Could it have been Count Perdiom? Or maybe Knight Commander Randolph? Perhaps they worked together?"

Suddenly, Amelia let out a sharp laugh.

"Why are you laughing, my lady?"

"Do you really think it was those two?"

"Wasn’t it? Who else could have pulled it off?"

Amelia snorted.

"Randolph might be brave and reckless, but he’s only good at swinging his sword. He wouldn’t even think of cutting off the supply line. Even if he tried, he’d probably mess it up and get caught."

"Then, was it Count Perdiom?"

"Count Perdiom is a competent commander, but he’s not the type to gamble with his soldiers' lives. That’s why he’s been able to defend the northern fortress for so long."

"Then who…?"

The only reason the ambush had succeeded was pure luck, but looking at it objectively, it had been a reckless gamble.

And there was one madman in Perdiom who wouldn’t hesitate to make such a gamble.

Amelia curled her lips into a cold smile.

"Yeah. It had to be that bastard Ghislain."